It Will Always Come to This
by semnai
Summary: Clint's mind has never really been his own after the incident. And it probably never will be again.


Bow cocked, he kicked down the door and quickly canvassed the room. Seeing nothing of importance, Clint strode to the next room to continue the search. Of what, they weren't clear, but the Avengers' intelligence had led them to this building, and split up to find it faster. Clint hated being in the dark, figuratively and literally, but they didn't have much choice under a deadline.

Scanning for anything unusual or out of place, he treaded silently down a hallway in the basement, his well-trained ears able to pick up any little sound. Eying a door on his right, Clint rammed through it to find himself in a wide expanse of a room. His eyes immediately fixed upon a figure standing in the center, regally clothed and smirking.

Swiftly, Clint loosed an arrow and immediately reached back to his quiver for another, releasing that one too. They both flew through empty space and hit the other side of the room, before exploding into dust. Clint spun around for the figure he had seen, the figure of Loki standing clear as day in front of him.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, long slender fingers wrapped around his throat and he was slammed to the ground. He clenched his eyes shut from the force of the impact, but there was no mistaking that voice.

"Don't worry. Your mind shall remain yours. That's not my purpose here."

Clint's eyes flew open and he fumbled for his bow but it was too late; Loki wrenched it from his grasp, next moving to rip the quiver off his body. He flung both to the other side of the room.

"No, no," he scolded, his green eyes gleaming. "That's not my purpose here either."

Clint struggled for several moments, but the iron grip which had moved to his shoulder and the heavy weight of Loki himself straddling him was too much for even him to overcome.

"Oh, and why are you here?" Clint retorted, as he half-heartedly attempted to push at one of Loki's legs. "I'm just dying to know."

"You don't know?" Loki smirked again, quirking an eyebrow. He slowly traced Clint's jaw line with a single finger.

Clint could feel his heart pounding, and he glanced around to the exits in the room.

"No _Avengers_—" Loki spit the word out, "to come rescue you. I have you all for myself. This is long overdue, Barton."

"What—Is?" Clint sputtered, eyes wide and guarded.

"You don't recall? I'm sure the memories visit you in dreams enough."And with that he brought his face closer, his lips ghosting across Clint's neck before reaching his ear.

"And I know you enjoyed it," he whispered, voice sharp, as he slid his hand down to Clint's neck and chest, feeling the racing pulse under his palm.

"I missed the heart, however."

Clint was fighting an assault from his fractured mind. Things that may have been, memories faded from dark dreams deep in the night, things he couldn't distinguish if he had been forced to enjoy or of if the perverse pleasure it had brought him was real.

"Undecided, are we?" Loki softly remarked, his hand lazily drawing circles on his exposed neck before moving up to trace his upper lip. "Let me convince you."

He unzipped Clint's vest and pulled it from under him, repeating the actions with his undershirt.

Wrapping his fingers around his jaw, Loki kissed him forcefully, sucking on his bottom lip before pulling away. Clint slightly leaned into the kiss, his eyes vaguely dazed.

"Frankly, your lack of resistance is rather disappointing. I expected more from you, Barton."

Clint shook his head, and closed his eyes. He didn't know what was happening to himself anymore. His breathing was coming shallowly. He felt like he was glued to the floor, and tried moving his arms again. They somehow found themselves on Loki's thighs for a second time, but they weren't there to push him off.

Loki's smile widened, and his hands moved across Clint's chest. He bent down again, using his clever mouth to suck on Clint's neck, collarbone, and more, his tongue exploring, tracing patterns.

Clint reached up and ran a hand through Loki's hair, disgust for himself growing, but his body was moving of its own accord, need overcoming reality.

Loki snatched his arm away, pinning it down above his head, and drawing in closer than ever before, his body pressed against Clint's completely, skin against Loki's rough leather and armor. Their lips were nearly touching, and Loki's mouth hovered tantalizingly above Clint's.

"It will always come to this," he hissed, nails digging into Clint's arm. "Never doubt that for a second. You were made to be mine."

Clint stared into the eyes above him, nearly black with desire and was sure he was seeing into a mirror. He swallowed and nodded slowly. "Yes, boss."


End file.
